1. I woke up in a novel I didn't finish.
2. There are rules in this place. There are ten rules written on the wooden sign at the door.
Article 1: The opening hours of this park are: until the writing is completed.
Rule 2: Don't walk into the fog. Touching is also considered as walking in.
3. When I copied these ten items, I used up a piece of manuscript paper. The paper faded in my hand and disappeared in three seconds.
I counted what was left: twenty-nine.
At that moment I realized - it was not paper, it was my life.
4. I have been writing novels for six years and am the best at making people die.
Now I dare not write about myself.
